


All Good Things

by FallingLikeThis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bad Jokes, Boys Kissing, Clubbing, Dancing, Everyone Is Gay, Famous Harry, Harry Has Long Hair, I still love Niall, I'm being very subtle right now I know, Kissing, Licking, M/M, Masturbation, Nipple Play, Non-Famous Louis, One Night Stands, Popstar Harry, Post-Coital Cuddling, Sex, Tattoos, Ziam is a side thing mostly, also room service mix-ups, but no kissing of the butts, i want to label this pwp but honestly it takes like 4k to get to it so, like a buttload of kissing, no Ziam smut, please forgive the lack of Niall, probably can't be considered pwp, seriously tho I did it all for the nookie, sorry if you showed up for that, sorry if you're into that, that may or may not stay one night stands, wanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-01 23:23:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10203176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingLikeThis/pseuds/FallingLikeThis
Summary: After a good show, popstar Harry likes to go out with his crew to blow off some steam. It must be his lucky night when he finds a pretty boy that's willing to help him out with that.Russian translationhere.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [louiswillian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/louiswillian/gifts).



> to my giftee,  
> This is a pinch hit. I am sorry that it's so very short. The thing is, I started on the Fake Dating Au you wanted but then realized that it would take _way_ too long to write for this exchange. I am still writing it for you and I will happily gift it to you when it's done (and even yell about it to you over Tumblr if you'd like once I'm revealed). In the meantime, please enjoy this humble offering in it's place. 
> 
> Thank you to my beautiful, beautiful beta and friend, [Rearviewdreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rearviewdreamer/pseuds/Rearviewdreamer) who is amazing on so many levels and I am so lucky to have her.
> 
> Extra special thank you to [Loooi_liss](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Loooi_liss/pseuds/Loooi_liss) for the Russian translation [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/5466352).

The adrenaline is still coursing through Harry’s bloodstream when he runs offstage after his last song. He’s sweaty and breathless and beaming from ear to ear.

“Good show, Harry,” one of his techs, Liam, offers as he passes on his way out to the car that’s already waiting to take him to his hotel for the night. He almost reaches out to pat Harry on the shoulder but pulls his hand back before it can make contact with Harry’s shimmering skin.

Harry spins around, walking backward as he informs Liam that “You’re coming out with us tonight, Payno!”

Liam grins ruefully. Harry is always wired after a good show, always trying to get everyone who works with him to go out and blow off steam. The sad thing is, despite being only twenty-four, Liam is more of a pensioner than a partyer. He likes a nice, quiet night in with a good book or maybe a decent superhero film.

“I don’t know...,” Liam tries to dodge.

“You’re coming!” Harry tells him again in a no-nonsense tone. “We missed you too much last time, Liam,” he adds, pouting out his lips.

If it were anyone else, Liam would think they were just saying it with no real truth behind the statement, but Harry had actually whined to Liam last time about how he’d been missed the day after his last outing with the crew.

Liam shrugs, giving in far too easily. “I guess I’m coming then.”

“Yeah, you are!” Harry fist pumps, then points one of his ridiculously long index fingers at Liam. “You won’t regret it, Liam.”

Liam shakes his head fondly as Harry turns to face the direction he’s walking. Liam’s not entirely sure he believes that he won’t end up regretting it, but that’s sort of the problem, isn’t it? How does one say ‘no’ to Harry Styles? Liam hasn’t quite figured that out yet, but he hopes that if, one day, someone does, they might be willing to give him a few pointers.

 

*

 

Harry showers at the hotel, still keyed up from his show. He has a quick wank as the warm water streams down his back, imagining someone on their knees in front of him, a warm, hungry mouth wrapped around his cock instead of his own hand. One of the venue workers had told one of Harry’s sound engineers about a fabulous club nearby, one that’s known for being discrete. Perhaps Harry has a decent shot at pulling tonight but he’s not keen to wait and find out.

Harry washes thoroughly, his wank taking the edge off but not actually reducing his energy level all that much. When he’s done with his body, he washes his hair. He’s got a really good shampoo (and leave-in conditioner) that makes his hair feel really soft. Not that it will matter once he gets it all sweaty again, but it’s usually good for tempting a hand or two into his hair when he goes dancing - nails running over his scalp, fingers raking through his curls - and he loves that.

When he’s washed and rinsed his hair, he finally turns the shower off, grabbing his towel from the wall mount and giving himself a cursory pat down before he steps out onto the cold tile floor. His toes curl at the sudden coolness against his skin as he wraps the towel around his waist and moves to grab another to wrap around his hair.

He walks to the bedroom and considers his suitcase. Being on tour for the better part of a year, half his life is packed in his bags. Undecided, he turns to consider the closet next, all of his good clothes will be in there already. He’s spending a week at this location before his tour moves on so he doesn’t feel so ridiculous about hanging his favorite clothes up this time.

He doesn’t really know much about the club that was recommended beyond “gay” and “discrete” so he’s not certain about a dress code. Shrugging to himself, he decides to keep it simple. A plain white t-shirt and his best black skinny jeans paired with his favorite Chelsea boots will work. Of course, his “best” black skinnies have a hole in each knee but make his less-than-ample arse look fantastic.

He rubs his towel over his hair and puts on some leave-in conditioner, scrunching his curls a bit before leaving them to air-dry. His shirt has wet spots from his hair dripping on it but they’ll dry pretty soon.

All done prettying himself up, Harry checks the time and figures that his crew has had enough time to finish up at the venue and might actually be back at the hotel as well now. So, he starts texting.

Half an hour later, with a couple of security guys, a few enthusiastic roadies, and a reluctant Liam in tow, Harry finally manages to leave the hotel. You’d think he would have lost some steam having to wait so long to go out, but he’s actually managed to become even more wired.

Harry is ushered into a secret entrance of The Dark Room and let loose, his security staying within sight but not so close as to cramp his style.

Harry ponders the club’s name for half a minute before he’s not thinking about anything but the pulse of the music pounding through his bones and the sweet, sweet feel of a body pressed up against his own. He’s got someone dancing against his front _and_ his back almost as soon as he hits the dancefloor. The one in front of Harry is really cute, his dark skin a stark contrast against Harry’s. His smile is brilliant and his hands stay politely distant until Harry indicates that he's okay with being touched. The guy behind Harry is less patient, hands possessive on his hips the second Harry smiles at him. He’s cute too but Harry’s not sure he likes the way his hands feel on him. He goes with it for the moment, dancing with them both until the first song bleeds into the next. When it’s obvious the guy behind Harry is trying to urge him away from his other dance partner, Harry pulls away from him.

The guy's face suddenly looks cruel under the flashing lights and Harry’s worried for a split second before Liam shows up and pulls him away from both of them, leading him to the bar.

“Are you okay?” He yells over the music once Harry is safely away from the potential for danger.

“Yeah,” Harry calls back, patting Liam on the shoulder in manly gratitude. “When did you become part of the security team?”

“When I talked Benito out of stepping in and dragging you back to the hotel,” Liam answers, gesturing to their bartender that he’d like two Coronas like the guys next to them have.

“Oh,” Harry says, a little dismayed that he almost ruined the night already. “Thanks, Liam. Really.”

“Not a problem,” Liam smiles, thanking the bartender when their drinks are set in front of them, before lifting the bottle to take a sip.

Harry follows suit, looking around as he drinks. He didn’t really get much chance to take the place in before he was thrown into the action. There are small raised platforms all over the club, places where club-goers can climb up and put themselves on display while they dance should they choose to, and many of them do. Harry watches groups of friends dancing on each other and laughing, drinks in hand. It looks fun. He moves his gaze to another platform and chokes on his drink.

“Are you okay?’ Liam asks for the second time in five minutes, patting Harry on the back.

Meanwhile, Harry hasn’t been able to remove his gaze from the two boys he’d spied on the platform. They’re both absolutely gorgeous, otherworldly really. One sort of broody looking, eyes closed as he moves to the music. His shirt says “Cool Kids Don’t Dance” but his body is contradicting that statement because this guy looks like the embodiment of cool. It’s not really him that Harry cares about though.

If that guy is the embodiment of cool, his dance partner is absolute sin. He’s shorter – which has always been a sort of thing for Harry, how he towers over some guys – and curvy. So fucking curvy. He’s got one of those faces that Harry bets would look sweet wearing a smile. But he’s not smiling right now. He’s biting his lower lip as he gyrates, rolling his hips to the music. He looks like he’s begging for a good fuck and Harry desperately wants to be the guy to give it to him.

He leaves his drink on the bar, unfinished, and grabs Liam’s arm. “Let’s go dance,” he suggests, not waiting for an answer before he’s dragging Liam toward the platform.

“Harry, I don’t really dance,” Liam’s voice finally filters to Harry’s ears when they’re planted right next to the two ethereal beauties.

“Liam,” Harry says, placing both hands on his shoulders. “Shut up and look up at the platform behind me.”

Liam does as he told and just as Harry had suspected, his jaw drops. “Fuck, he’s hot.” Liam slaps a hand over his mouth, like he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“I know,” Harry laughs before it catches up to him that Liam said ‘he’, not ‘they’. “Wait, which one?”

Liam lets his hand lower as his gaze stays on the platform. “The cool kid that’s defying that shirt like a boss.”

Harry doesn’t know whether to be relieved that Liam isn’t into the same guy he is or offended that Liam hasn’t even seemed to notice the small, curvy, fucking perfect one.

He shakes his head, if Liam hasn’t noticed him, he doesn’t deserve him. Which is fine because Harry absolutely does.

“Great, let’s ask them to dance,” Harry says instead of _anything_ he’s currently thinking, turning to the platform.

“Wait.” Liam yanking on his arm stops him before he can get far and he turns back around. “We can’t talk to them!”

“What?” Harry’s brow scrunches in confusion. “Why not?”

“Because we’re just puny little humans, peons compared to them,” Liam explains, eyes going glassy as he looks at the cool kid like just the sight of him is a drug Liam is currently high on.

“Excuse you, Liam,” Harry has another one of those either/or moments. Either he should be offended that Liam thinks they’re not attractive enough or he should feel appalled at Liam’s lack of self-confidence. Or maybe both. He’s gonna go with both. “First of all, I am a catch. My mum tells me so all the time.”

That gets Liam to smile like Harry was hoping it would. “And second, so are you,” he says with a straight face, ruffling Liam’s hair. It’s the next part that’s giving him away, dimple popping in his cheek as he fails not to smile. “Seriously, if you weren’t like my brother, I’d hit that.”

Liam’s makes a face of disgust at the mere thought even as he laughs. “Ew. Don’t say that.”

Harry laughs with him. “Now, let’s asks some pretty boys to dance.”

But when he turns, they’re not on the platform anymore. Because the small, curvy one is standing right in front of him, biting back a laugh.

“Hi,” he says, mirth in the timber of his voice, smile reaching his eyes. And _oh_ , he’s even lovelier than Harry thought. Looking at him this close is kind of like looking directly into the face of the sun.

“Hi,” Harry parrots back breathlessly.

“I may be wrong but I think I heard you say something about asking a pretty boy to dance?” His head tilts to the side and Harry’s eyes are drawn to his throat, the smooth curve of it. Harry wants to put his mouth there.

“Uh yeah,” Harry says, pulling himself together and forcing himself to look the boy in the eyes. “Wanna dance?” He asks, following up the question with his most devastating smile.

“That depends,” the other boy says, lashes fluttering against his cheeks coyly.

“On what?” Harry asks, playing along.

“Your original target,” the boy answers, flicking his fringe out of his eyes. “Was it me or Zayn?”

Harry follows the direction his hand points and finds that Liam and the boy’s friend have already moved further into the crowd to dance together without his noticing.

Harry turns back to him, licking his lips as he smiles. “I didn’t even realize he’d gone,” Harry tells him, stepping closer and putting a tentative hand on his waist. “Does that answer your question?”

“I guess it does,” the boy smiles, moving closer, welcoming Harry’s hands on him.

Without any further conversation, they move closer to Liam and Zayn to dance.

“What’s your name?” Harry leans in to ask once they’ve found their spot and they’re already moving to the beat of the song DJ Horan is currently playing – “Rich Boy” by Galantis, a song that Harry’s particularly fond of.

“Louis,” he leans in to answer back.

“I’m Harry,” Harry tells him.

He chuckles, leaning in even further to inform Harry that “I know.”

“Oh, are you a fan?” Harry asks.

Louis shrugs cryptically and keeps dancing. Harry doesn’t mind, letting the question go and just moving in sync with the other boy. He’s not as good as Louis. Louis has such amazing control of his tiny little body and Harry tries valiantly not to wonder if that translates to the bedroom.

They dance for several songs, laughing together when Harry’s moves border on embarrassing. Louis doesn’t seem bothered, often pulling out something just as ridiculous as though he’s challenging Harry to a horrible kind of dance battle. Harry wins obviously. And then they grind together through some of the dirtier remixes that the DJ plays, getting sweaty and parched. Eventually Louis wants to break for water, tugging Zayn away from Liam to accompany him to the bar.

“Will you be back?” Harry can’t help but ask, nor can he hide the concern on his face. What if he _doesn’t_ come back? Harry really likes Louis. He’s not just a pretty boy Harry wants to fuck senseless. He’s funny and nice and Harry wants to _know him_.

“Relax, Curly,” Louis grins running his fingertips down Harry’s arm slowly. “I’m just going to the bar, I’m not leaving the country.”

Harry should be relieved. It was a joke, mean to settle him but it hits too close to home. Harry will be leaving the country in a few weeks. He’ll be going to America for months on end for the next leg of his tour. But it’s much too soon to be thinking about anything beyond this moment, this night. So, Harry ignores the dread trying to make its way past his defenses and dances with Liam while he waits for Louis’ return.

When one song turns into two and Louis still hasn’t come back, Harry starts to get worried. Maybe he really was leaving and he just didn’t want to see Harry’s face when he found out. Maybe Harry came on too strong.

He excuses himself from Liam and makes his way to the bar. When he reaches the edge of the dancefloor he finds Louis making his way back to him, arms full of water bottles.

“Thought you might be thirsty,” Louis smiles, holding one of the bottles out to him.

Harry could honestly kiss him. “Thank you,” he says as he takes the bottle, reaching out for the other ones too because Louis’s balancing three more in his arms.  He’d said he was thirsty and he hasn’t gotten to drink any of his water yet. “Where did Zayn go?”

“Loo,” Louis answers, thanking Harry sweetly as he cracks open the lid on his water and takes a long drink.

Harry watches his throat work, suddenly feeling very thirsty himself. He wants to lick the sweat from Louis’ skin, lap it up like it’s the only thing between life and death. He swallows hard and turns his gaze to the extra water bottles in his left hand. “Are these for him and Liam?”

Louis wipes his mouth off before he recaps his bottle, nodding as he glances at the bottles too. His gaze flits away but immediately returns, eyebrows raising in surprise at the sight of Harry easily holding two bottles of water in one hand. “Holy shit. Your hands are enormous.”

“Is that bad?” Harry asks, turning to take Liam his water, and maybe hide his hands in the event that Louis thinks they’re hideous.

“Not bad at all, Curly,” Louis tells his back as he follows him.

Harry feels way too pleased by that answer. He taps Liam on the shoulder, shouts that Zayn will be back from the loo soon, and hands him both of their waters, turning back to Louis once his task is done.

“Aren’t you thirsty?” Louis asks, moving into Harry’s space again.

Harry smirks, opens his water and drinks deep, chugging the bottle until it’s empty in a matter of seconds.

“Are you that fast at _everything_?” Louis asks, lips quirked in a sarcastic grin.

“Not the things that really matter,” Harry assures him with a wiggle of his eyebrows, enjoying the way Louis rolls his eyes but still laughs at him.

“You might have to prove that later,” Louis says, taking the empty bottle from Harry’s hands and tossing it carelessly into the crowd.

Harry watches it bounce off of someone’s head. They look up confused but in no worse condition for it. Louis laughs, covering his mouth adorably and Harry looks back in the direction the water bottle flew to keep from staring. He does that sometimes with attractive people, the staring thing. Liam calls it his “serial killer” face and tells him it’s creepy. He doesn’t want to seem creepy to Louis. Especially if Louis might give him the chance to prove his stamina later.

“Hey,” Louis calls, fingers catching his chin and drawing his face back towards him. “I’m over here.”

“I don’t think I could forget that if I wanted to,” Harry tells him, giving in and doing the staring thing. Apparently, Louis _likes_ to have all of Harry’s attention on him.

“And you don’t want to?” Louis asks, looking up into Harry’s eyes with a vulnerability that wasn’t there a moment ago.

“I think I’d rather not,” Harry says, pulling Louis in and swaying him to the music.

Louis smiles and rest his head on Harry’s shoulder like he can’t cope with how sappy Harry is. He raises his head after a moment and shakes it, eyes twinkling in the flashing lights as he looks up at Harry. For just a second, it almost feels like they’re a real couple. And Harry feels weightless, so light and happy, he doesn’t even think about it before he’s bending his head to kiss Louis.

Louis’ lips purse to meet his automatically but Harry remembers himself almost as soon as their lips touch, remembers that they’re practically strangers and he probably should have asked before kissing Louis.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, pulling away.

Harry sees Louis drop the not-quite-empty water bottle, imagines he can hear the dull thud of it hitting the floor, before Louis’ hands catch the back of his neck, not allowing him to get any further away. “Unless it’s for not kissing me properly, I don’t need your apology,” Louis informs him, pulling him back down again, locking their lips. He holds Harry still, tongue sliding over Harry’s bottom lip, waiting for Harry to open up to him.

Harry doesn’t disappoint, letting Louis in, meeting him halfway as they lick into each other’s mouths heatedly.

“Take me home,” Louis breathes against his lips.

Harry smirks playfully, “Home’s a little far away for me.”

“Your hotel then,” Louis doesn’t react to Harry’s joke, apparently impatient to get naked. And well, Harry is actually a big fan of that plan.

“Let me tell Liam,” Harry says, turning to where his friend was dancing before only to see that he’s not there.

“Yeah, I think I saw them go past a minute ago,” Louis notifies him. “My guess is, they’re either in the bathroom fucking, or they left to go fuck somewhere else.”

“That dick,” Harry mutters to himself. At least he had the decency to try and let Liam know he was leaving.

Louis laughs. “There’ll certainly be plenty of that.”

Harry shakes his head, grinning at Louis. God bless him, he’s just as bad as Harry about making poorly-timed jokes, especially penis jokes. Those are Harry’s favorite. “Shut up.”

“Make me,” Louis says, a challenge in his smile and trouble in his eyes.

“Oh no,” Harry tells him, pulling him extra close. “I’m not going to shut you up, baby. I’m gonna make you _scream_.”

“Fucking prove it,” Louis retorts with smirk. But Harry wipes that off his face when he kisses him, fucking his tongue into Louis’ mouth slowly, torturously.

Louis wears a dazed expression on his face when Harry pulls back, gently swiping his thumb over Louis' bottom lip.

“I will,” he promises, taking Louis’ hand and pulling him out of the crowd, signaling to his team that he’s ready to leave.

 

*

 

Harry pushes Louis up against the door of the hotel room the second it closes behind them, relishing in the way Louis moans in desperation. Harry’s come to realize, especially on the ride from the club, that Louis loves the size difference between them just as much as he does. He moves his mouth to Louis’ throat, lifting him up with his hands on Louis’ bum and taking the weight effortlessly when Louis’ legs wrap around his waist. He turns, walking them over to the bedroom of his suite, ravishing Louis’ neck as he goes, toeing off his boots along the way.

“Harry,” Louis whimpers against his hair when Harry bites lightly at the junction of his neck and shoulder. He’s still breathing heavily when Harry drops him onto the bed, quickly following him down to manhandle him up to the pillows, where Harry wants him.

“Fuck,” Louis whispers when their clothed erections rub against each other. It’s as though he doesn’t have the energy to speak at full volume. Harry reaches down to palm at Louis' cock through his trousers, making Louis tremble in anticipation. “Love those massive hands.”

Harry grins wickedly down at him. “I’m quite fond of them too,” he says, removing his hand from Louis’ cock to grab the hem of his own shirt and yank it up over his head. Then he does the same to Louis who raises his arms compliantly.

Louis’ hair is messy and tousled when his shirt is gone and Harry can only find it in himself to think the boy more beautiful for it.

“It is what it is,” Harry recites, running his fingertips gently over the tattoo that’s been revealed on Louis’ chest.

“Well, I was gonna go with _birds_ but the tattoo artist though it might be a bit cheesy,” Louis sasses, mirroring Harry’s movements and outlining his swallows with soft touches.

“Heeeey,” Harry whines slowly in complaint. “I like my birds.”

Louis rolls his eyes before rolling them both over so that he’s on top of Harry. “So do I, if I’m honest,” he admits, bending to trace over one with his tongue.

“Mmmh,” Harry closes his eyes, cupping the back of Louis’ head and enjoying the hot slide of Louis’ tongue over his flesh. Louis moves a little further down and gets his mouth on Harry’s nipple, sucking on it before capturing it between his teeth and tugging on it lightly. “Oh god,” Harry cries, bucking his hips up, looking for that good friction that’ll give him what he needs. His dick brushes against Louis, but Louis is quick to back away from him.

“Oh no, Curly,” He teases Harry, kitten-licking at his other nipple and then biting it too. “You promised to make me scream, remember? Can't have you getting off yet. You said you could _last_.”

Harry looks down at him breathlessly. What Louis’ doing feels tremendously good and all but Harry’s not anywhere close to coming yet. “I can,” Harry assures him, raising up to a sitting position and pushing Louis down to lie in his place. “And I _will_.” He bends over him and gives him a teasing kiss, nipping at Louis’ lip to give him a taste of his own medicine and ordering him to “stay there” as he climbs off the bed entirely and goes to the bathroom to get his lube and a condom out of his toiletry bag.

Louis is still laying where he left him when Harry gets back but his trousers and pants are on the floor next to a beat up pair of vans and he’s slowly, silently stroking his dick as he watches Harry return to him.

“Couldn’t wait for me?” Harry asks, placing the items on the bedside table and putting his hands on his hips.

“You haven’t even got all your clothes off yet,” Louis shrugs unapologetically.

Harry bites his lip, trying to look serious even though he’s fighting a smile. He tugs at the belt on his jeans and slides it slowly out of the loops, dropping it to the floor as Louis watches. The hand on Louis' dick slows down minutely. Harry unbuttons his jeans, hand leisurely migrating to his zipper next as he tugs it down. It takes a little work but he shimmies the jeans off his hips, pushing them down his legs until he gets one leg out of them, stepping on them with his foot to free the other leg. They’re basically inside out now, but they’re off, and all that’s left is a tiny pair of leopard-print briefs that makes Louis giggle into the back of his hand.

“Shut up, they’re sexy,” Harry pouts, sliding those off as well.

Louis shuts up abruptly at the sight of Harry’s gloriously hard dick waving next to his face. “ _That’s_ sexy,” he counters, still staring at it.

Harry almost preens at the comment but then he realizes they they’re both completely nude and he’s not currently touching any of Louis’ naked, naked flesh with any of his naked flesh and that’s unfortunate indeed. So, he quickly climbs on the bed to remedy that situation and leans down to kiss Louis some more. “You’re not allowed to come until I’m inside you,” he says, knocking Louis’ hand away from his dick and running his fingers over it himself. The skin of it is soft, but the underlying hardness is unyielding and Harry loves it already. He plays with it, teasing it as he kisses Louis hungrily, feeling every shiver that he sends down Louis’ spine. Pressing his own cock into Louis’ hip, getting a little friction for himself in the meantime, but not enough to really amount to anything.

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” Louis breaks away to protest.

Harry runs the pad of his thumb lightly over Louis’ slit as he grins sinfully down at him. “Well, if you’re going to beg…”

“I’m not begging,” Louis argues but Harry thinks it’s mostly just to be contrary.

“Oh, ok,” Harry shrugs, moving back in to kiss him some more, hand travelling further between Louis’ legs to cup his balls, rolling them in his palm.

“Ok, I’m begging,” Louis changes his mind when Harry’s hand moves even further to graze his fingers over Louis’ clenching hole. “Please, Harry. Pretty please, will you fuck me now?”

“All you had to do was ask,” Harry taunts, reaching for the lube and condom. Louis nearly pushes him off the bed.

“I’ve been asking since we left the club, Harry,” He huffs.

“Aww, baby,” Harry coos at him as he coats his fingers with lube. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Fucking better,” Louis tells him, spreading his legs a little when Harry moves to sit between them, reaching down to rub a finger over his entrance. “Don’t tease,” Louis warns as Harry’s finger circles the furled muscle.

“I’m not,” Harry answers, serious for once. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can hurt me _a little_ ,” Louis says, voice sultry and pupils dilated as he watches Harry.

Harry opens him up slowly, going all the way up to four fingers before Louis’ begging for his cock. He rips open the condom and slips it on with an ease that was very much practiced in his youth (like,  _actually_ practiced - by himself, in front of a mirror). And then he lines himself up with Louis’ arse and pushes in slowly.

“God, Louis,” Harry breathes. His dick has been largely ignored for most of the events of the evening so the tight, hot grip of Louis' arse on it is like food for the starving. It’s miraculous and Harry is so careful not to take advantage of it until he’s buried to the hilt in the eighth wonder of the world that is Louis’ arse. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”

Harry’s lips automatically search out Louis’ and he kisses him like he needs it.

Louis kisses back the same way, hands grabbing fistfuls of Harry’s hair like he’s afraid he’ll die if Harry stops kissing him. His legs wrap around Harry’s waist, the heel of one foot resting on the crack of Harry’s arse, pushing insistently as though to silently urge him to move.

Harry moves, pulling out and thrusting back in in slow, shallow bursts.

Louis makes small, pleased grunting noises at first, but those slowly morph into long, drawn out groans as Harry’s aim improves and his thrusts become deeper and more powerful.

“Harry!” Louis cries on a particularly hard thrust, voice breaking on Harry’s name.

Harry stops kissing Louis, stops moving entirely to pull back and check on him. He feels a moment of intense guilt when he sees wet tracks on Louis cheeks. “Fuck, Louis. Did I hurt you?”

Louis opens his eyes, laughing even as another tear slips out onto his cheek. “No, darling. It’s just that good,” he answers, reaching to rub at some of the worry lines on Harry’s brow. “Please don’t stop.”

Harry kisses his lips tenderly and thrusts again, watching as Louis breathes out a “yeah” like Harry’s still got it right. He continues fucking Louis slow and hard, kissing any part of him he can get his lips on. When he feels close, he slows down a little, putting his hand on Louis’ dick to help him come first.

“No,” Louis protests, pushing Harry’s hand away. “I’m close. Wanna come on your cock.”

“Ok, baby,” Harry tells him, hands reaching down to grasp Louis’ arse cheeks as he pushes into him again. “Yeah,me too. I’m so close. You’re amazing, Lou.”

Harry ends up coming first but he keeps thrusting, speeding up and fucking Louis with everything he has until Louis comes too. And then he pulls out slowly, mumbling an apology when Louis winces at the empty feeling, and collapsing on his back next to him. He pulls off the condom without much effort, ties it off and places it on the bedside table which he thinks might be a little better than the floor. He could be wrong though, he can’t really think beyond the post-sex haze of satisfaction.

“How do you feel about cuddling after sex?” He turns his head to ask Louis.

“Not really into it,” Louis’ face scrunches in distaste. And there, Harry has found it. The fatal flaw that means he and Louis can’t possibly be soulmates.

“Oh,” Harry says turning to stare back up at the ceiling, trying and failing to hide his disappointment.

Louis turns to him grinning evilly as he rolls himself half on top of Harry’s body. “I’m fucking with you, Curly.”

“You didn’t just do enough of that?” Harry asks, slapping him lightly on the arse, careful not to hurt the parts that must be aching from their previous activities.

“Technically, _you_ did that,” Louis argues, kissing Harry’s shoulder and Harry shifts to wrap the arm he’s lying on around his waist.

Harry shakes his head, unable to keep from grinning. He really likes this boy. It’s seriously mind-blowing how good they are together and Harry knows that one night of this isn’t going to be enough for him.  He turns to stare at Louis with a gaze far softer than one might have for a one night stand. “Can I keep you?” He asks, quietly.

Louis leans up, resting an elbow on Harry’s chest, chin in his palm, as he considers Harry’s question. “Perhaps,” Louis answers, lips tilted in a half-grin.

 

*

 

Liam wakes up in the morning to find himself curled around a warm body. Lifting his head and peering over their shoulder, he sees Zayn asleep on his pillow, looking rather angelic if he does say so himself.

Slowly, carefully, he untangles himself from Zayn, quietly orders some room service and hops in the shower. When he comes out with his towel around his waist, he finds Zayn sitting up in bed, blinking at him and wearing a sly, if still a little sleepy, grin.

“Could have woken me up for this,” Zayn says, getting out of bed and walking over to Liam, running his hands over his still-wet torso. “After I shower, do you wanna go again before I have to leave to get ready for work?”

“Actually,” Liam answers just as there’s a knock on the door. He moves to the door and opens it, revealing their food cart being delivered. He thanks the room service attendant, pays a tip from his wallet on the counter and closes the door behind the cart. “I thought we might have breakfast.”

He uncovers one of the plates to reveal… a bunch of bananas?

“Um, I didn’t order this.” Liam says.

“Wait,” Harry’s voice bellows out in the hallway. “I didn’t order this!”

Liam opens his door and sticks his head out to see Harry standing in the doorway of his own room with Zayn’s friend from last night clinging to him and laughing. Liam feels kind of bad that he never really learned the lad’s name.

“Hi, Liam,” Harry greets when he notices him.

“Hey, Harry,” Liam returns, nodding to the other boy too. “Harry’s friend.”

They glance at each other significantly before the boy is biting his lip shyly and announcing “Boyfriend, actually. And it’s Louis.”

“Oh,” Liam says, a bit surprised.

“Who’s out there?” Zayn asks, following Liam out into the hall. “Oh hey, Lou. Popstar.” He greets them both with that wry grin that Liam loves.

“I see you made a friend of your own,” Harry points out with a shit-eating grin.

Zayn’s eyes spark with mischief as he steps closer to Liam. “Boyfriend, actually.”

“Really?” Liam asks, studying Zayn's face because he’s not sure if Zayn means it or if he’s just mocking Harry and Louis.

“You want me to be?”

“Yes,” Liam answers without hesitation.

Zayn shrugs like that settles it. “Then I guess I am.”

Louis and Harry cheer mockingly from their room as Zayn leans in to kiss Liam, sealing the deal so to speak.

Liam shakes his head at them but he guess he should be grateful to Harry for dragging him out last night. He doesn’t know why he ever thought saying ‘no’ to the lovable lad was a thing that he needed to learn. Saying 'yes' has turned out so much better.

Because apparently when Harry Styles is involved, good things happen all around.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> You know how clapping can bring Tinkerbell back to life? Yeah. I'm just gonna leave that there. I have faith you'll make the connection.
> 
> Oh and spoiler alert... they do end up getting their breakfast situation sorted. :)


End file.
